Dark One's Mistress (Dark One Trilogy Book 1)

by Alien, Aldrea

  Safe. She wouldn't be safe until the men were gone. Clutching the curtain to her chest, Clara leant against him, finding some small comfort in his arms as he escorted her out of the room and down the hall. There was no one else around. Not even a hint of a passing servant. Lucias must have followed her as they left the dining hall. Had the guard seemed so suspicious to him?

  Her legs wobbled as they climbed the coiling stairway to her chambers. Lucias' grip across her shoulders remained firm but distant, his magic doing much of the work in holding her up. The door swung inwards at flick of his hand. Holding the candelabra aloft, he led her across the dark room and to her bedside where he gently had her sit.

  The candlelight danced in the wind as he set the metal base on the table. He crouched at her feet, taking up one of her hands. "Do you require me to remain nearby whilst you change?" His brows lowered and his mouth bore an uncertain tilt. "I could have a few of the servant women stay the night if you'd feel better with some feminine company."

  She bowed her head and drew the curtain tighter around her neck. "No."

  He nodded slowly. "I guess I'll leave you be."

  Clara squeezed his hand as he stood, refusing to let it slip free. "Don't go," she whispered. Glancing up, she saw him hesitate.

  Lucias stared at her for what seemed like hours then finally sighed. "I—I'm not certain it would be appropriate given the circumstances. I should be getting back to the main hall before my absence is noted."

  "Please? Just until I fall asleep." In reality, she did not want him to leave at all. No one else was better suited to keep her safe; he'd already proven it to her.

  His eyes narrowed. "Very well." He pulled free of her fingers as a chair squeaked along the floor. Lucias collapsed into the seat. "Until then."

  She used the bathroom to change into her nightgown whilst Lucias, under strict instruction to stay out, no matter what he heard, waited on the other side of the door. She could hear the leisurely tramp of his boot heels as he strolled alongside the connecting wall.

  Clothed in an outfit that was at least whole, she snuggled under the sheets, grasping his hand when he bent to pull the blankets higher. Her fingers entwined with his, she closed her eyes.

  It was some time later when Clara felt his hand slip free. She rolled her head to one side, her mind slowly rising out of the fogginess of light sleep. Candlelight glistened through the cracks between her lids.

  "Hush." The word was barely a whisper, the breath of it hot against her skin. The blanket lifted over her shoulder, engulfing her in sweet warmth. There was the hesitant touch of a finger brushing her cheek, then the light faded away and all she could hear was the soft tread of retreating footsteps.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The pale light of dawn had well and truly left by the time Clara joined the waking world. Now noon was in danger of passing and her head still felt as if someone in heavy boots danced upon her skull. To have been woken by the cheerful figure of Gettie also hadn't helped.

  Like many of the party-goers, Clara sat in the gloomy dining hall and stirred her soup, endeavouring not to let the spoon hit the bowl as she drew lazy circles. She'd drunk half of the brownish liquid and her tongue still had a decidedly papery feel to it.

  Someone at the far end allowed metal to clank with porcelain. A few people closer to the sound groaned. Clara winced as a fresh pang stabbed through her brain. Upon awakening, Gettie had given her some sort of vile-tasting tonic that was meant to help. Clara fervently prayed it would start working soon.

  The chair beside her screeched backwards, the sharpness prickling its way up her spine and into her brain. A pair of black leather boots hit the table with a heavy thump. "And how do we fare on this glorious day?" Lucias enquired in what, had her skull not been threatening to split in two, would've been a wonderful sing-song tone.

  "Sod off," she mumbled.

  He chuckled, the sound hammering inside her head. "That bad, huh?"

  She peered at him, twisting her head and squinting to keep out the flare from the torches behind him. "Why are you so flaming cheerful?" she asked through gritted teeth. He would've easily drunk twice as much as her, and no less than the others who now nurtured their aching heads, yet he seemed completely unaffected by the previous night's indulgence.

  Lucias' grin gleamed brighter than the sun. "Still feeling a little under the weather, are we? I can fix it."

  "Gettie's already given me something for it."

  His grin widened. "Ah, but my way works." He sprang to his feet, the chair rocking on its legs as it squeaked backwards, and offered her his hand. "Would you like to know the secret to it?"

  Was that a trick question? Of course she wanted to know how he didn't suffer the same ill effects as everyone else. She grabbed his hand, instantly regretting it as he pulled her to her feet and all but dragged her out of the hall.

  They made their way through the familiar corridors leading to the main stairway. A handful of servants passed by on their way out of the Citadel, each man carrying a number of chests bearing the setting sun emblem. Endlight's men.

  Clara watched the men moved on, solemn in their task. Not a one of them as much as glanced her way. Had they heard about their comrade and the punishment Lucias exacted on him?

  "Do keep moving, my dear," Lucias said as he disappeared down another corridor. "You'll never get there if you stop to ogle every servant on the way."

  Dear? He'd never called her dear before. Clara lifted her skirts to keep up with his brisk pace. The women had made two dresses upon her arrival and Lucias' subsequent choosing. With one of them given up to her mother and the other ruined, she'd been delighted to find they'd kept the serviceable attire she'd worn upon her first arrival. A pity her boots, with their soles in heavy need of repair, had not survived, for her dark red slippers didn't exactly match the outfit.

  Her head swam as she trotted after him. Around her, the walls became less and less opulent. Paintings in their ornate, if not gilt, frames gave way to tapestries, which in turn dwindled to bare stone. Underfoot, the long stretches of carpet had finished with the last of the landscape paintings.

  She'd been this way before. It'd been the first time he had seen her in the gown the Endlight guard had destroyed. Where was he taking her?

  Just when she thought she could go no further without being sick, Lucias stopped.

  Clara halted beside him. Her brain felt as if would pound its way out of her forehead. She leant on the pillar, pressing her cheek to the stone's cool surface until she was certain she wouldn't vomit.

  Instead, she sought the strength to face whatever cure Lucias proposed. Peeking through one eye, she peered around the smooth curve to discover nothing more than the unoccupied, dusty stretch of the Citadel's training grounds waited beyond. "This is your big secret?"

  "One of the best," he said, laughing as she stared at him. "Go on, try it."

  Did he expect her to believe this would work? Well, it does heal the injured. What did she have to lose?

  She stepped out onto the compacted dirt to stand just on the edge, bathed in the noon sun. There was no need to move further. An odd pinching tingle bore its way into her skull, then gradually faded. Her cheeks warmed as if sunburnt. She groaned as the aches melted away.

  "Feel better?"

  Clara nodded. She'd never felt so well. The pain in her head was gone and her face... She hadn't realised her cheeks still stung until they no longer did. She gently prodded her skin and massaged her jaw. No one had mentioned either way and she hadn't dared to even glance in the mirror this morning to see the truth, but the man's blows hadn't been light and must have left some decent bruises.

  "Wonderful!" Lucias clapped his hands together, untainted delight creasing his face. "Would you care to join me for a heartier meal than the swill the kitchen dares to call soup?"

  Her hands flopped to her sides, slapping against her skirts. He'd murdered a man just last night. Clara could still picture the stiff, doll-like look on
the guard's face as Lucias commanded him to die. Yet he acted as if it had never happened.

  She grabbed Lucias' bare arm. "What did you do to the guard last night?" It'd been something far stronger, and nastier, than the magic she'd seen him use in the dungeon. "You killed him," she whispered. Lucias had somehow ordered the guard to jump to his death and the man had obeyed as if he couldn't stop himself.

  Lucias shrugged her off, the rage of last night twisting his lips into a sneer. "It was no less than what he deserved."

  She shrank from the fury in his eyes. They flickered from his normal dark brown to silvery-blue, seething with the memory. He could've imprisoned the guard. But no, he chose death over all, disobeying the law of his ancestors. "I thought all criminals had their souls taken, not their lives."

  Lucias sighed. "Usually, yes. But you were in trouble. It was late." He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the wayward strands from his face. "I-I wasn't thinking straight and... It's a reflex. I didn't intend to do it, but once I had him—" He shrugged again. "What else would you have had me do?"

  "What did you do to him?" She hadn't wanted to ask then. Now, with the nearing prospect of once more being alone with him and the dozens of men who obeyed his command, the need to know overwhelmed her.

  He pressed his lips together, the skin fast grew white and thin. "You won't like the answer."

  "I'll decide what I like. Tell me."

  Those dark eyes stared at her for what felt like eternity before he finally spoke. "It was a simple spell of compelling, akin to the soul-taking ritual." He waved his hand in the air, his mouth opening and closing as he obviously struggled to find the words he needed to explain. "It... overpowers the will. Allows me to... control a person, whether partially or completely, for... whatever means. At least, for a short time."

  "Long enough to climb a tower?" Obviously it had taken the guard beyond the window ledge. Had the man been aware of what he was doing as he made his way to his death? Did the magic wear off before he hit the ground?

  "Yes." Lucias' lips twisted with bitter wryness. "Or have a woman accept a man's seed."

  Clara stared unblinkingly at him, her thoughts mostly still back with the guard's horrid fate. This power belonged to all the Great Lords? "Your father used this spell on your mother?"

  "A great many times and, I believe, a few after I was born."

  Since hearing his mother had been an unwilling participant in his creation, she hadn't given much thought to how his father had gone about getting her pregnant. Surely, with the magic they had at hand, the power to lift a body off the ground, it would be easy to pin a woman and have their way.

  "You could do the same thing to me, couldn't you?" Compelling a person seemed such an obvious choice. There'd be no struggling, no screams. She wouldn't be able to resist. No more so than the guard. Or Lenora. Sweet Goddess. No wonder Lucias' mother hated both father and son so much. His father had done worse than rape.

  Lucias shook his head, his face tightening in disgust. "No, I couldn't. There is no difference in whether I compelled you or took you kicking and screaming into my bed. Rape is rape."

  "But you could compel me." Had he done so already? Like in the alleyway? Did he use this dark magic to convince her to come back? Surely it wouldn't have taken much. A small tweak to change her mind and keep her here. Would she have been aware of the intrusion?

  "I could do many things, I just choose not to. Sure, I could take the easy route and rely on my magic for everything." Lucias shook his head again, his smile bitter. "I'd become no better than the so-called Great Lords of old and exactly what my mother believes me to be." He clasped Clara's hands with shaking fingers. "And the choice of lying with me has always been yours, although I'd hoped we would have the time I promised you, so—"

  "So I would want to stay?" she finished for him. "Have you forgotten your men kidnapped me? Why would I ever choose to stay?" She thought her constant attempts to escape had proven she wouldn't stay if given the choice. Then why did I come back? She should've walked away and left him standing in the alley.

  But no, she'd been once again locked in his prison and she had allowed it to happen. Because he wanted me to be safe. And he'd almost failed. Some half-drunk guard had nearly gotten what Lucias could not. The thought, and seeing how easy it had been for the man, must chafe at his pride.

  Lucias frowned. "Clara, you have my word I did not order my men to take women off the streets, especially unwilling. They were meant to bring me no one else but Katharina."

  She sharply recalled his surprise the first night they'd met. Her cheeks warmed anew as the memory returned in full force. Him standing there, wet and wearing naught but a towel, eyeing her whilst Sirius informed his master of the situation. "But it didn't stop you once we were here, did it?"

  "Once you were here." He barked a gasping laugh, nervous, almost to the point of embarrassed. "I admit it was a poor execution on my part, but I couldn't risk having you slip through my fingers." He cupped her chin, his chill thumb brushing along her cheek. "Had I known Everdark held such a treasure, I'd have sought you out myself months ago. I would've wooed you in such a fashion that, when the time came, you would've eagerly chosen to be with me."

  She pulled away from him. "Why would I choose to be with a dead man?" Shaking her head, Clara raced back down the hallway.

  On the way back to the Citadel, he had promised to let her go as soon as she could decide on how she would make a living and where. Why was he doing this now? Did he think expressing such feelings would get her to change her mind? I never should've come back.

  Lucias caught up to her as she reached the main stairs. "Clara, please. Let me explain."

  She spun on her heel to face him. "Explain what?" she shrieked, the words echoing around them. "That in any scenario you can think of bar this one, I end up giving you an heir? Is that what you want to explain to me?"

  "I didn't intend for you—"

  "Intend!" She threw up her arms. "You haven't meant to do a single thing since I got here." His previous words came back to her. Only Katharina. Clara hadn't ever been his intended mistress. "Before, even!" She paced the width of the stairway, silently ticking off each thing he hadn't intended. Her kidnapping, her learning the full extent of his magic, letting her escape and, of course, there was the guard's compelled death. "You unintentionally ruined my life."

  What horrors he could unleash on the world if he ever did something on purpose?

  "By taking you from a home where your mother hit you if disobeyed? Or do you refer to the marriage you did not want? I have already agreed to let you go once you've decided what you wish to do with your life and where you plan to go from here. What else are you expecting me to do?"

  She stepped close enough for their noses to touch. "If you're so ready to let me go, then why do you continue to speak of having me stay?"

  One side of his mouth tweaked upwards. "Wishful thinking? I'm going to die soon and I... I just wanted a chance."

  Clara stared into those dark eyes and found herself getting lost not into the cold, devious gaze of her lord as she once would've assumed, but the lonely, pleading eyes of a boy. A chance. She shook her head. "To do what? Have sex one last time?" He could easily pay for such a thing, even if the woman had to come here.

  His lips made a vain attempt at smile, although it was small and watery. "To show you I could've made you happy."

  Her? Happy with him? "You honestly believe you could?"

  Lucias gave a short, self-mocking laugh. "I do have the power to give you all you desire, but since you claim the only thing you want is your freedom." He shrugged. "All you need give me is a how and a where, then you can take Tommy and go whenever you please."

  "So say I wanted to go out through the gates right now." She strode out the front entrance and into the sunlight. "You would not stop me?"

  She'd trotted halfway down the steps before registering the green-lacquered carriage sitting in the middle of the courtyard. Of
the other carriages that had been here last night, there was no sign.

  The guards twisted in their saddles as she came to the foot of the stairs where the count and his future wife stood waiting. There seemed to be a lot more armour on the men than when they'd first arrived. They're expecting to fight their way home.

  No one said a word towards what they thought would be found on the roads to Endlight, but it was there in the way the guards moved. The subtle adjustments of steel and straps. The checking and rechecking that their weapons were close at hand. Even the wary manner in which they glanced at the gates.

  Thad, also bedecked in armour and already astride his shaggy mount, halted before his father to give the count a nod. "They are ready to depart when you are," he said.

  "What's this?" Lucias asked as he descended the stairs to join them. "Leaving without even a goodbye?"

  "Not at all, my lad." Farris' eyes sparkled with a sort of secret amusement. He hugged his lord, almost lifting Lucias off the ground. "We didn't want to tear you from your lady's lecture." The count faced her, his arms wide open, and embraced her before she could refuse.

  Clara stiffened, expecting him to do something highly inappropriate and was surprised when he tenderly patted her back.

  "You be gentle with him," he whispered in her ear. "The lad hasn't been shown much compassion."

  Her cheeks burned as if freshly slapped. How much had they heard?

  Giving her another pat, Farris stepped back to waggle a bony finger under her nose. "Don't you go hurting your pretty voice with all your yelling." Winking, the count escorted Brenna to the carriage. He inspected the courtyard as his wife-to-be stepped inside. "We appear to be man a short."

  Thad glanced up from the gauntlets he was adjusting. "Yes, Sean is no longer with us."

  Clara swallowed, her heart suddenly racing as memory dredged up the guard's attack. Sean? Hard to think the man who'd tried to rape her had a name. She didn't even want to believe he'd been human.

  "Oh?" Farris' bony hand fell to his sword hilt and toyed with the tassel. "Defected, has he?"